The Beginning
by CoolPeopleWrite
Summary: When she is the last fighter remaining, what will happen? When war, death, and mental health begin to invade her already chaos-filled life, what is a Rogue to do? In what form will help come? From whom will help come? Once an X-Men. Always an X-Men. New X-Men welcome. Eventual crossover.
1. Chapter 1

The Beginning

Chapter 1

Xxx

All we are saying is give peace a chance

All we are saying is give peace a chance

C'mon

Ev'rybody's talking about Ministers

Sinisters, Banisters and canisters

Bishops and Fishops and Rabbis and Pop eyes

And bye bye, bye byes

All we are saying is give peace a chance

All we are saying is give peace a chance

Give Peace a Chance

-Plastic Ono Band

xxx

Slowly she walked down the carpeted, narrow hallway which led to the main meeting room her home housed. Heels silent on the floor, she couldn't help herself from allowing her mind to wander.

The meeting which she was about to wander into, would without a doubt change the course of the rest of her life. It had taken her a long, long time to get to where she was currently in life. She had suffered, yes. She had cried and harmed herself and mourned for the life which she would never know. But, she also knew herself unique and beautiful. She was her own person, and no one would be able to change that.

_This meeting wouldn't be able to change that._

Balling her hands tightly, she relished in the pain of too-long fingernails digging into the palms of her hands. Opening them, she quickly opened the door before her, walking inside.

She couldn't help but stare out at the eyes before her-so many different pairs of eyes: Blue, gold, red, brown, black, white….they were all there. They all told stories of loss and pain; of joy and hope. Every set of eyes in the room had witnessed countless wars in their lifetimes-countless more than any one person deserved to.

She had a different relationship with each and every person who stood in that room: they all had memories, both good and bad. They'd all fought battles together, and they'd all lost loved ones.

Over time, they'd bled and cried together, as well as fought in wars, suffered the deaths of friends, and they'd killed alongside each other. There were times when she had tried to kill some of them, sure, but then again, there were times when some of them had tried to kill her.

She had cried at the feet of many and had borrowed tampons and chocolate from countless others. She'd plotted many a prank with giggling youth, well, while they still had youth in their eyes. Most of all: they had all prayed together for brighter futures.

They had been comrades.

They had been teammates.

They had been family.

And now all but two were seeking freedom.

Freedom? Could one truly ever be free from the life of an X-Man? A Morlock? An Acolyte? A member of The Brotherhood? Then there were those who didn't even belong to set factions-those who simply acted when called upon.

They'd all decided over the timespan of the prior year, that they could no longer be counted on to save the world. The lives they had lived-some for decades, had taken their toll. Health, relationships, and families had been put on the line.

Many were beginning to start families-she had even been in a wedding that previous month as a bridesmaid.

Many were traumatized from war and turmoil, with night terrors and both physical and mental scars to show for it.

Others simply wanted to take their newly learned control, or approaching control, and live as normal adults.

She couldn't blame them-not for wanting normalcy. They wanted peace and quiet and pixie dust and fairy tales. They wanted a world where their mutations wouldn't alter their regular, day-to-day lives.

_Could such a place exist? Maybe?_

Glancing down at her hands, she fisted them, I know the truth. I know that you can't run from this life. Not when you have a curse like this.

Seeing the final few persons that they were waiting for fill the room, she allowed her feet to take her to the foot of the table. At her left sat Charles Xavier, and at her right, Ororo Munroe stood. Only one of them would be staying. Only one of them would continue to roam the great halls of the expansive home which she called "home".

"Please, my friends-my family, be seated," Charles said in a calm, low voice. The years had been rough on him, and his nearly ninety year-old frame seemed more weathered than usual in recent days.

He glanced slowly at each of the other twenty occupants of the large drawing room the mansion offered. Many others had refused to come, which he accepted. She'd accepted it as well. It was a big thing that they were asking. The fact that even twenty had come was rather spectacular.

"We are all here today, for one reason and one reason only," Taking a breath, he leant back in his chair. Feeling Rogue's small hand on his shoulder, he smiled fondly at her.

"We are here to work out the "Armageddon Agreement" which was so aptly named by Mr. Kurt Wagner over here on my right." A tall, blue, fuzzy man brightly shined red as his name was mentioned.

"I don't see what the point of this bullshit is," Victor Creed grumbled from the other side of the room. "I've agreed to no longer try and actively kill you people-why can't we let that be?"

"While we greatly appreciate that, Mr. Creed, if another Apocalyptic event such as what occurred with the actual Apocalypse happens again, we must be in agreement on how to proceed." Charles spoke in his diplomatic, calm voice.

Just as Victor was about to protest again, Tabitha Smith whacked him upside the head with a sharp, manicured hand, "Shut up, fuzzy. You could have chosen to prematurely jump ship like the others, but you didn't...so shut it!"

Ignoring the glaring match that was happening between the two mutants, Charles continued speaking.

"In the event of anything cataclysmic: be it a disaster, or something downright unbelievable-something that the regular populace would not be able to handle on their own, I call for a plan. This plan would be broadcast near and far, to wherever you all end up. Be it Kathmandu, or Toronto; Chicago, or Berlin."

Charles gestured to his side, "Ororo, on one of her visits to Africa, came across this gem stone," raising his hand, he showed a small black-corded necklace. It was basic, no more than a simple white "X" outlined over a small red stone.

"In the event that one of the aforementioned events is to occur, this jewel must only be clenched in your fist, and every other jewel from the original will heat up. This reaction is caused by the body heat released from one's body. Ororo managed to obtain the entire quantity of the stone from her village in Kenya, so there is a minimal likelihood of this being triggered by anyone other than those seated in this very room."

Seeing the confusion and intrigue fill the eyes of his comrades,he took a breath again. Wiping sweat from his brow, he spoke,"I hate asking all this of you. Thinking on it, I fully understand why the others didn't attend this meeting-they deserve the right for complete freedom, as do all of you. The thing is though," He said, leaning forward in his chair. "In the event of something cataclysmic, the world deserves a chance for freedom too. We all have a gift-and while the world hasn't always accepted that-may never fully accept that-I believe in the duty to try and provide safety to those who need it."

Ororo reached behind her, pulling out a clipboard and ink pen. Placing it on the large table before them all, she slid it forward.

"I fully encourage each and every one of you to start lives that don't involve training every morning and fearing death. I support you all finding love and having families. I want you all to have the greatest level of happiness that can fall upon a person. I also want though, for this planet to survive. For that to happen, we need to sign this agreement. I just hope you all can forgive me for any part of your upbringing that I've forced war and turmoil on."

Reaching to the floor beside his chair, he pulled a small briefcase onto the table. Opening the clasp, he revealed the remaining necklaces to the occupants of the room.

Jean Grey-Summers was the first to stand, her new wedding ring glistening on her finger. Walking to better grab the clipboard, she held it to her chest.

"We're family, through and through."

"Always," Ororo whispered back. "Even in different countries, we are still your family."

Signing her name neatly on the paper, she grabbed for one of the necklaces. After clasping it to her neck, she took a breath. Walking down the line, she grabbed each shoulder she passed and gave it a squeeze.

That's how it went for the next hour-mutants from all around the room slowly signing their names and grabbing the simple necklace out of the box.

St. John Allerdyce was the final person to sign, glancing at all sides as he did so, "I swear if one of you grab this necklace because they found a spider….", awkward laughter filled the room, breaking the unnoticed tension that had fallen upon them.

"I believe there are some bottles of champagne behind you, Erik," Hank McKoy said, pointing at Magneto. "Would you mind opening a few bottles, I believe a toast is in order."

Quirking an eyebrow, the self-proclaimed "Master of Magnesium" did as requested.

Once everyone had a champagne flute in hand, Kitty Pryde raised her glass in the air, prompting those around her to follow.

"Like...to family and never forgetting." Tears had already begun to pool in her eyes.

"Y'all are a bunch of sapps," Bobby Drake joked, knocking shoulders with Remy Lebeau. The famed thief rolled his eyes, knocking back his champagne.

At the far end of the room, Rogue and Charles sat and stood together. Both with untouched champagne glasses in hand. Simply standing stationary, they observed the room before them as a whole.

Some may consider what they did today silly.

Some within the room may take off the necklaces the second they left the property.

Some may never again think of the word "X-Men" or its affiliates, but both Rogue and Charles would. They'd stand strong.

Glancing at the clipboard before her, Rogue took note of each and every name that had signed other than the Professor and herself:

Jean Grey-Summers

Scott Summers

Alex Summers

Erik Lehnsherr

Robert Drake

Katherine Pryde

Lance Alvers

Tabitha Smith

Remy Lebeau

Victor Creed

Henry McCoy

Kurt Wagner

Ororo Munroe

Evan Daniels

Piotr Rasputin

Warren Worthington lll

St. John Allerdyce

It is only the beginning.

Xxxxx

There we have it. The Beginning, Chapter 1!

I am taking offerings for Beta Readers, if anyone might be interested. If so, let me know in a review, along with your thoughts! Please keep in mind, that the rating of this story will eventually raise to "M", and a truly fun crossover will occur with some other famous superheroes.

Until next time everyone.

:)


	2. Chapter 2

The Beginning

Chapter 2

Xxx

One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do

Two can be as bad as one

It's the loneliest number since the number one

No is the saddest experience you'll ever know

Yes, it's the saddest experience you'll ever know

'Cause one is the loneliest number that you'll ever do

One is the loneliest number, whoa-oh, worse than two

(Three Dogs Night, One is the Loneliest Number)

xxx

Westchester County,

New York

2018

She was a Rogue.

At one point, a group of highly questionable individuals aided in taming her, but now, she was just "Rogue". No one was around to help. No one was around to listen. Silence followed her wherever she went.

It was deafening.

It was loud.

It became her new "normal".

She had countless voices in her head, but speaking of those made her sound more insane than she actually was.

The X-Men, her former cohorts, had disbanded about four years to the day, if her incredibly cheesy cat calendar on the kitchen wall could be believed.

Today's cheesy motivational quote happened to be, "Follow the path most covered in animal hair."

Following the X-Men leaving, Charles Xavier-her mentor-had suggested she take a journey to Bhutan. Handing her a photograph of an aged and weathered building, she was introduced to the Paro Taktsang Monastery. Charles had spent many a year trying to help control her odd set of mutant powers, sadly with barely any results to show for it. With both herself and her beloved professor at a loss, traveling to Bhutan was almost a breath of fresh air-both literally and figuratively.

In Bhutan, she had been taught by the incredibly talented spiritual leaders about not only Buddhism, but meditation also. It had been suggested by those at the monastery, that meditation was the key to controlling her powers; something that she had spent nearly seven years trying to control at that point.

It had taken six months of effort, but eventually she had learned the control that she had so very much strived for. Tears fell from her eyes the first time that she didn't absorb a visiting monk who had heard of her plight. His name had been Jinpa-which translated to generosity. She truly believed him to be the most generous man whom she had met while in Bhutan. At almost her wits end, her mental stability was hanging on by a thread when he gave her the motivation to give her task one more week of effort.

The few who had accidentally been absorbed with her powers had joined the psyches in her mind. Together, they aided in her control, which had been a truly unanticipated accident.

Two weeks into learning control, news of the death of Charles Xavier reached her. It was an easy decision-packing and leaving the Monastery. She had made powerful allies with those who inhabited the sacred building, but it would never be her home. Home was and always would be New York.

Charles Xavier was her home.

Charles dying meant that she was all that was left. She would be the only one to roam the sacred halls of the once packed mansion that had housed and taught generations of mutants. She was the last one to carry the name "X-Men".

The Professor had passed away following a massive stroke following breakfast one morning. He'd just had time to call for help before falling from his wheelchair. He was nearly ninety years old, and despite what many would have liked to believe, was not immortal.

She had no way to contact the other X-Men-former X-Men. She had refused to use any of the borrowed telepathic powers she had acquired over the years in order to do so, and refused to use the necklace the Professor had provided.

His death was a travesty, but it wasn't the end of the world, despite what it felt like in her heart.

She was alone. She wasn't going to make anyone suffer that with her.

She had eventually dug a burial for the Professor within the private cemetery behind the mansion. His burial was beside those of his two parents, something which she assumed he would have appreciated despite their rocky relationship. In his later years, she was regaled with tales of his youth, especially those following his meeting of her mother, Mystique, or as he had known her as, Raven. His parents hadn't really paid the young telepath much attention following that, for whatever reason (He refused to delve into those details). With a stone that she etched on, a simple "Charles Francis Xavier. Teacher. Mentor. Guardian. Friend", his grave was forever marked with beautiful granite.

She thought it was fitting as the bald man had never been one for flashing decals. Despite wishing to build a twenty foot monument in his honour, she refrained. Charles Xavier, despite his immense wealth, was a simple man.

One flashy surprise came her way though in the week following as soon as she had his death certificate processed. Apparently, the Telepath had put into his will to pass along all of his substantial monetary accounts to her following his potential passing. It had been his final gift, according to his will. It honoured her for being not only loyal to the X-Men all of those years, but to herself as well.

After nearly fainting upon seeing an amount with nine zeros before the decimal, she had to give a small smile. The man truly took care of his family.

'Family.'

That's certainly what they had become, despite her attempts at solitude and locking him away; her days of self harm and self-loathing. He'd fully supported her traveling to Asia to gain control. He knew when someone was outside his realm of knowledge and help. She truly had been a special case.

Following Raven-Mystique's death, the kind professor had become a surrogate father to the young mutant. She adored him more than she was willing to express, especially after he put up with her all those years. She never knew her birth father-knowing Mystique, it could have been anyone-but she had known Charles.

He'd cared when nobody else did.

He was something special.

The man had invested well, due to the need of providing for his facilities. Connections around the world had also provided substantial monetary figures. The man had planned for the inevitable. She liked to think he had bigger plans that simply leaving everything to her though.

She had considered operating the school on her own-even offering room and board to mutants without safe housing. No one had accepted any offers. The world was still an incredibly scared place. Change wasn't likely to happen any time soon. Living in hiding and solitude was still the preferred method of life for most mutants.

Even the arrival of aliens two years prior had done nothing to sway the public to the side of mutants. Aliens, they could accept. Mutants? Bring out the pitchforks!

Being alone the previous few months had allowed her time to focus on power control. The internet had been a powerful tool; teaching her meditation and focus. It turned out, that once she was able to center her mind to a degree that she hadn't previously known possible, control was something which could be established.

She hadn't been able to share that information with anyone she loved. Remy had fled back to New Orleans as soon as family drama popped up while she was still healing from the Apocalyptic mutant phenomena; Logan informed her that they could never be together, one of the reasons which led to his imminent leaving; and Scott was happily repopulating the world with Jean on one of the smaller islands of Hawaii.

Love was overrated-or so she told herself.

She didn't need the comfort of another though. She was a rogue. She didn't follow general guidelines.

Xxx

She stood in front of the foggy bathroom mirror, wiping the mist away from the shower she'd just had. With all of the fire-related powers she had taken in over the years, she'd thankfully managed to keep her love of hot showers. If anything, she savoured them a bit more.

After throwing her hair into a towel and brushing her teeth, she closed her eyes...simply taking in the sounds of the radio playing from the window ledge.

Smooth jazz...good for the soul.

Her gaze eventually went to her body as she listened, still dripping slightly from her shower. She had a daily ritual that she hadn't been able to break in years, and it was right on schedule.

Over her years with the X-Men, she had picked up the occasional scar and broken bone-nothing too severe. It wasn't until the summer following her teammates leaving her and the Professor on their own, that she'd picked up the brunt of her scars.

Xxx

_Rogue had just finished off an entire bottle of white wine and was simply reclining on the front porch of the mansion, embracing the rain storm that had swept the region. It was one of her more bitter nights, she would admit. The kind of nights where you let hatred and depression wash over you._

_She was obviously more swept up in her thoughts then one would think, as the next thing she had known, arms were surrounding her, and a sock was being stuffed in her mouth, something which she quickly spat out._

_Strong arms grabbed her from her position and began to drag her down the driveway, ignoring her pleas for release. It was as if she had completely lost control of her body. Despite the voices in her head yelling assistance and ideas, she was frozen. She was terrified. Years of training went out the window._

_It was like she wasn't a trained killing machine._

_She was alone. _

_It wasn't until they got to the end of the property, where a larger mob had formed, that they stopped walking. Each of them had something-a knife, a whip, a bat-and they all bore looks of hatred. She tried to bring forth a power-any power-but she found herself completely without means. The alcohol had hit her very hard, and none of her attackers were directly touching her skin._

_Two of the strong bodies pushed her to her knees, each taking one of her thin arms in hand. Together, they'd torn her shirt down the back._

_Sobs and begs filled the air, both of which were avoided and ignored. A deep voice behind her announced that her crime-as a mutant-was a lash across the back for each regular human's life that she'd specifically ruined._

_Before she even had time to contemplate such insanity, the pain had begun. _

_Agonizing, blinding pain ran through her body; the smell of blood filled the air; tears coupled with the rain blurred her vision-it was all a nightmare. _

_She wouldn't let them hear her screams though. _

_She wouldn't let them hear vocalized proof of her pain._

_She had one chance, she knew that. From their positions on the property, she knew that the defence systems that the Professor and Logan had set up during their time at the mansion would be able to reach her. _

_Biting through her lip as another lash struck her body, she screamed as loud as she could, "Code Orange. Initiator….Rogue!"_

_Instantly, silence filled the air and all movement halted. Her assailants all looked rapidly around themselves, assessing the situation._

_They weren't expecting the bullet that struck each of them in the head though. After the twelve "pop pop's" had filled the air, she allowed herself to fall to the ground. _

_"Fuck me"._

Xxx

She'd healed, eventually. Mostly. Her minimal healing capabilities from both Logan and Sabertooth guaranteed that. She still bore beautifully hideous scars across her back though.

She forced herself to look, everyday. It was a day of weakness when she had received the injuries. It was the type of day that she, as a mutant in this day and age, couldn't allow herself. The world was far too full of hatred to ever take your guard down, especially when you inhabited a home where mutants were known to live.

_I still think you look beautiful, Rogue._

**Thanks, Jean.**

She bore other scars-scars from her days of depression and anguish. Thin lines ran down her wrists, and a few marred her thighs. It had been years since she had added to them, but they were always there...reminding her of the journey that she'd risen along. Fingering one particularly thick scar on her wrist, she closed her eyes.

Taking a soothing breath, she pulled on the oversized sweater and slouchy socks that she had brought into the bathroom. Throwing her hair into a messy bun, she fingered her ever-present white streaks of hair.

_You look like an old woman, yo._

**Shut it, Toad!**

_A hot as fuck old woman._

**Thanks, Toad.**

"This is as good as it's gonna' get."

A brief tinkling sound could soon be heard, drifting in from the cracked window of the bathroom. Windchimes that had long ago been installed by Ororo still tinkled and provided moments of music when small movements of air came by.

Deciding to have her breakfast on the back porch that morning and listen to them, she set out for the kitchen, ignoring the sad-eyed girl in the bathroom mirror as she left.

Xxx

The second that she reached the bottom of the staircase, the tinkling sound from the chimes grew stronger. Glancing out at the back porch, the beautiful sight of the morning sunrise greeted her. Soft gusts of wind could be seen blowing across the garden which took up a large amount of the property, while a large quantity of birds frolicked in the array of bird baths.

Quickly preparing herself a coffee, it didn't take her long to soon recline on the large hanging wicker chair in the corner of the patio.

Closing her eyes, she simply breathed.

Xxx

When she was a teenager after her powers manifested, she could never comprehend an encounter where large amounts of skin being showcased, and her housemates being around, could ever happen at the same time.

Countless events passed by where she had needed to sit out: pool parties, and manicure nights, and any event with alcohol: After the house party with the Arcade situation, where she had seen countless stupid teenager lose control of themselves, she had come to the conclusion that staying in her proper mental state, would aid everyone in the grand scheme of things.

_Thusly, when she woke up one warm August morning when she was seventeen, sweat dripping down her face, an idea filled her. _

_The clock situated beside her bed read that it was just after five in the morning on a Saturday. Danger Room sessions wouldn't be starting until nearly seven that day, as there had been a mission the previous night and the Professor had elected that everyone receive an extra hour of sleep. No one would be awake for at least an hour._

_It was her chance._

_Bolting from her bed, she quickly ran to her roommate Kitty Pryde's dresser and opened the drawer for what she knew to contain swimsuits. Grabbing one that tied up on both the top and the bottom, as Kitty was a size smaller than her and that suit was the most likely to fit, she quickly stripped and forced the outfit onto her body._

_It had been literal years since she had last worn a bikini, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth._

_Grabbing her towel from the hook on the back of her door, she quickly opened it and padded into the hallway._

Xxx

_Waving her feet in silly patterns in the water brought a sense of calmness to the introverted goth. She had been born in Mississippi-swimming was nearly in her blood. Countless warm nights had been spent doing back strokes in the creek near Irene's home, or in her neighbor's backyard pools as a child. Irene once called her a "fish". _

_She hadn't been able to be a "fish" in a while._

_Jumping off the side of the pool, her body was soon fully submerged in the cool, blue water._

_This is freedom. _

Xxx

Opening her eyes, she took in the entire property that she now owned. Owned. It was still a foreign thought to her.

Basketball counts which masked the hanger for the jets she had hidden in her basement; expansive gardens and a sparsely filled cemetery; pools and running tracks and trees for climbing-it was beautiful, and it was hers.

She took a sip of coffee, followed by another.

It may all have been hers, but it had barely been touched since she'd become the lone human occupant of the property.

_You don't have to be by yourself, Rogue._

She nearly dropped her coffee at that voice. The Professor very rarely spoke to her. He preferred to let her figure things out on her own time these days.

**I'm not going to beg the others to come back.**

_I didn't say you needed to. What I'm suggesting, is going forwards. There's plenty of other misguided, lost, lonely individuals out there who would likely welcome you with open arms._

**How do you know?**

_Now isn't the time to be alone, young Rogue. Surely you can feel that._

She knew his words to be true. The Sokovia incident with the Avengers had escalated the hatred for mutants, despite the situation being dealt with and "forgotten". It was getting harder to go about her business and run errands without someone tossing an apple, or worse, at her head. Being with other people again would be ideal, but it would also mean leaving her semi-solitude.

Seeing the destruction of the poor country had inspired her to do good things with some of the money that had been left to her-A substantial amount had been donated anonymously from her accounts to help rebuild the small European country following that disaster.

It had made her feel slightly better about herself.

Xxx

Two nights later, she was sitting on her bed cross-legged in only a pair of workout shorts and a baggy shirt that she'd raided from one of the boy's old rooms. On her feet were her favourite pair of slouchy socks. In front of her, was an old photo album. It was filled from photos mostly of her Senior year of highschool.

Various other albums and randomly placed pictures lay by her feet, perfectly placed for viewing should she need.

Soon, she came across a worn picture with she thumbed.

It was a picture of her and Remy that Kitty had taken, seemingly eons ago.

The two of them had truly tried to date-truly-but they simply couldn't connect. She was...hopeful that he was happy. They were better off as friends either way, which was something that took both of them a while to accept.

There were more photos-photos of laughter and dates and carnivals and youthful fun. They'd all truly tried to enjoy the free moments that they had-those that weren't filled with fighting and training.

She'd been told something once by Ororo, and it always came to mind when she contemplated if she made the right choice in staying.

You've been given a gift, Rogue. It may not seem like it, but it's your own incredibly beautiful and unique gift. It will be hard, but you've been given a way to help people. Embrace it.

Embrace it she planned.

Xxx


End file.
